


Lost & Found

by halfabagoffritos



Series: Hashtag Ohana [18]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfabagoffritos/pseuds/halfabagoffritos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occasionally, Shaw finds cause to worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kesdax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/gifts).



> Kesdax prompt - "Ris getting lost at the park."

“What do you mean, you lost her?!” Shaw snaps, as quietly as she can, into her earpiece. Her rifle stays level with the target, even as he darts back and forth in his kitchen, fixing a sandwich or something equally almost too pedestrian for a hired killer. Every few seconds, he pops back into view through the open window, rummaging through the fridge. She knows Finch probably wouldn’t approve of her using a scope to keep lookout instead of, say, some binoculars, but the Machine doesn’t have eyes on their location to tattle on her. It’s not like she’s actually going to shoot the guy in cold blood. Maybe. Right now, though, Fusco’s aggrieved report over their comms is almost giving her an itchy trigger finger.

She feels the answering sigh almost more than she hears it.  _“The hell do you expect from a kid raised by you nutjobs?”_  Fusco growls.  _“Can’t you see her, Glasses?”_

Finch’s voice hitches, just a bit, as he replies.  _“I’m afraid I’m not picking up anything in your area…”_

Shaw pulls back the rifle and starts stripping it down. “I’ll be en route in thirty seconds,” she snarls.

_“Miss Shaw,”_  Finch cuts in, and from the high-pitch of his tone, she assumes he’s probably sweating a little bit.  _“I must insist that both you and Mister Reese stay on our mission!”_

Reese’s trademark growl joins the conversation.  _“He’s right, Shaw. Lionel can handle this.”_  Slight amusement creeps into his voice, intermingling with the obvious worry.  _“He earned his badge somehow, after all.”_

Fusco scoffs loudly into her ear.

She mostly ignores the admonishments and continues shoving gun parts into the padded case, sparing only a glance out the window and down at Reese’s car, parked nearby. “We’ve collectively wiped out an entire army of secret assassins, among other shit,” she grumbles, snapping the case shut once the last part is tucked in. “Pretty sure Reese can handle this lone joker by himself.”

There’s radio silence for several moments, almost deafening over the sound of her heels against the concrete stairs. Shaw can feel something crawl up her spine, raise her hackles. Any other time, any other place, she’d identify it as anger. Probably is at least a little anger, because how do you just  _lose_  a four-year-old at a park? How did the Machine see nothing either? And where the hell is–

_“Relax, Sameen,”_  comes the dulcet tone she’s become so very familiar with.  _“I have her.”_

Shaw pauses, hand on the door and ready to push her way through to the waiting daylight. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple, her cheek, her neck. “She okay?” she finally forces out, skipping right over asking _how_  Root found her, after she hears Finch sigh in presumably relief and Fusco’s muttered,  _“Thank Christ…”_

Root’s voice does a certain something when she’s smiling, or smirking, that’s beyond description.  _“A little upset that I sussed out her latest hiding place, but no worse for wear.”_

She lets the case dangle limply at her side for a beat, then two, before finally reaching up to wipe away the trickle of moisture along her neck. “Back to work, then.”


End file.
